


Everything In Its Right Place

by Jane_Lu



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: First Christmas, Fluff, Hugs, M/M, Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 05:23:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17156021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jane_Lu/pseuds/Jane_Lu
Summary: After Markus’ pacifist revolution, Connor eagerly joined Jericho to make amends for his past and to ensure that his people would see a better future. It’s a noble cause by all means, but a lingering sense of absence continued to persist no matter how much good he did. Connor could not fully understand what was missing.Maybe it’s slightly related to the way his thirium pump seizes and his processor stutters when Hank Anderson invites Connor to celebrate Christmas together.





	Everything In Its Right Place

**Author's Note:**

> I literally decided to craft a Christmas Hankcon fic yesterday and managed finish the whole thing today in time. I apologize if there's typos/grammar mistakes. Just needed to get this up before it's too late!

    As soon as Connor saw Hank Anderson's name listed in the incoming call, he knew that he would drop everything he was currently doing to answer.

    Both the human city governors and Jericho androids looked up with curious glances when Connor stood up in the middle of the meeting. He tapped his right temple with an apologetic smile, the universal android sign of an unmissable call.

    _Please exchange data with me later to catch me up._ Connor said to Markus.

    Markus nodded,  _It's from Anderson, right? Go ahead. I doubt negotiations would make much progress in the next half-hour._

    Everything he had been processing so far flew out as Connor made a beeline for the doors, his circuits thrumming with _something_ that seemed to be a result of knowing that it had been three days since they spoke, and that Connor really wanted to know how much he had missed of the other's life.

    “Hey Connor. How've you been?” Hank's familiar gruff voice echoed in his head when he answered.

    “Very good, now that I have heard your voice.” A smile formed unbidden on his lips, a reaction he'd long since given up trying to analyze but knew Hank was often the cause of.

    “Fuck. I swear that deviancy turned your sappy comeback function way higher than it should! Makes me feel guilty that I didn't check on you.”

    Connor knew that the DPD was swamped with new cases now that android deactivations were treated as homicides and human dissenters  He had been busy working with Jericho as well, attending negotiation tables and discussing possible directions for their people with Markus, Simon, Josh and North.

    “The fault is with me, Lieutenant. My life here is relatively uneventful apart from the negotiations. But I am concerned that you may have relapsed back to your unhealthy diet and sleeping patterns. Are you still following the lifestyle plan I laid out for you last week?”

    “Hell no!” The receiver crackled with the force of Hank's explosive retort, “I barely have time to go home and feed Sumo! Don't you have better things to do than nannying me in long distance?”

    “Your well-being qualifies as a 'better thing’,” Connor said sincerely.

    There was a muffled choking sound on Hank's side, followed by an indecipherable attempt to form words. Connor could picture the Lieutenant pacing back and forth at the station, wringing both hands behind his back with an embarrassed scowl twisting his rough lined face.

    “All right, listen,” Hank coughed awkwardly, “The reason I'm calling you is because Christmas is only two days away, and I don't wanna spend the holidays getting shitfaced drunk and passing out in my own vomit. Forecast promised light snow this Friday and I finally get a day off. Might be a good change of scenery to show you the festive side of Detroit, since it’s your first Christmas.”

    Connor's processor leapt into overclock mode as soon as he realized that Hank was essentially asking them to spend time together without any work obligations or tight time constraints. He had stopped by the DPD Central Station four times when he was in downtown Detroit, but neither of them could do anything more than exchange pleasantries, offer advice or catch up. In a way it was difficult to reconcile with the fact that they had spent almost every waking hour together as partners. When he started to work at Jericho, Connor had felt that something that was indubitably part of his identity had been removed, leaving him with a sense of disorientation. Even though that subsided in the following month, Connor still felt that he was searching for something he could not find.

    He supposed this was what “missing” something or someone meant.

    And Connor would do anything to make sure this hard-found opportunity to spend time with Hank would happen.

    “I… I would be delighted to,” He found it strange that he could not keep his voice from trembling, “Just like the old times, Hank.”

    “Yeah. I suppose so,” Hank sounded wistful, “I’ll pick you up at Ferndale Station on the 24th. What time works for you?”

    “Markus plans to spend most of the day helping with reconstruction and working with AmeriCorps to serve food for displaced residents. I’ll let him know that I will be away.”

    Hank let out a low whistle, "You androids are working really hard to build rapport with humans. I feel ashamed from pulling you away from such a noble cause. You sure you wanna walk away and spend Christmas Eve with a drunk cranky old man like me?”

    “Please don’t say that, Hank,” Connor disliked it when Hank disparaged himself, “I will always make time for you. After I speak with Markus, I will let you know when we can meet.”

    “Alright. It’s your decision.” With that, Hank fell silent. Connor expected him to hang up the next second, but before he could end the call, Hank spoke again, his voice colored by a hint of longing.

    “I look forward to seeing you again.”

    Those words repeated themselves in Connor’s processor even after he ended the call and returned to the meeting. He hardly noticed when the gathering adjourned, or the humans who were interested in conversing with him and other Jericho androids about their activities. It was only when Markus tapped on his shoulder firmly that Connor was able to pull himself out of his trance.

    “I’ve organized everything you missed. Ready to exchange?”

    “Yes.” Connor raised his right hand, deactivating the skin around his fingers, and pressed his palm to Markus’. He was careful to keep the flow of data strictly one-sided, concentrating on storing the other’s information into his drive and nothing more. But when Markus lowered his arm, he regarded Connor with a benevolent smile.

    “You are very attached to Lieutenant Anderson,” He said, “I don’t have the right to get between you two having a proper reunion, considering that I will be visiting Carl this afternoon. You’ve already done much for Jericho, and you deserve to spend time with family on Christmas.”

    Connor found Markus’ choice of words worth mulling over, after he was done sending an immediate message to Hank that he was free on the 24th. He always spoke somewhat differently from all other androids, using concepts commonly associated with humans as if he knew that they shared more similarities than either side believed.

    Attachment, was that what it's called, the unexplainable smiling, the anticipation of being able to talk to Hank, the countless times when he replayed their calls just to hear Hank’s voice, the insistance on Hank following a healthier lifestyle, the times when he took advantage of his connection to the DPD database to see what case Hank was working on, and now feeling that everything was in the right place for the first time since he joined Jericho? Connor was familiar in preferring one thing over another, based on calculated probability and observable information. But this was a whole new area of uncertainty, liking something with no discernible facts or data to back him up.

    As Connor noted down the new event “Meet with Hank!” for 18:00 on 12/24/2038 at Ferndale Station, he began research into the holiday itself. He hadn’t paid much attention to human celebrations yet, given that Detroit was still recovering and androids could not partake in those food-dominated holidays. So far Christmas seemed to be involve much food as well, along with a wide variety of traditions. But a common pattern of celebration, and the one that caught his attention the most, was the gathering of family and loved ones.

    Markus had referred to Hank as family to Connor, and now that he thought about it, he realized that his longing wasn’t one sided. Hank wanted to spend Christmas with him, out of all people. Hank was willing to break his drinking habits to make sure Connor could experience an important human holiday.

    And Hank was looking forward to seeing him, an admittance that come unusually freely from the hard-boiled police lieutenant. Connor replayed the call again, listening closely to his voice modulating between mock irritation, sharp denial, fond wistfulness, and warm concern. He spent the next two days preconstructing what he would say to Hank and later frantically finding a present for him. Their sudden planned meeting had caught him off guard, and he wished he had the time to prepare something more unique. In the end Connor ended up purchasing a vinyl release of Pat Metheny’s _One Quiet Night_ , which he folded in bright red wrapping paper and tucked under his jacket as he walked to Ferndale Station.

    The sun had already set on Detroit at 6PM, the fading light throwing falling snow into clear detail among darkened storefronts. Few people lingered on the streets; the few that did shot curious glances at where Connor stood at the station entrance. 

    Connor’s entire system seemed to vibrate with energy, and he found it difficult to stay still as he shifted his weight from foot to foot and readjusted his present. He kept an eye on the time. As minutes ticked past 6PM, he cast his vision far at both ends of the road, straining to catch a glimpse of any incoming vehicles as he calculated Hank’s arrival time based on current traffic conditions.

     _Eagerness_ , his social relations program defined those symptoms. A human emotion characterized by the desire and enthusiasm for something in the near future.

    Connor decided he definitely liked this reaction when Hank’s old Mustang tore around a corner. His restless energy seemed to burst forth as he immediately leapt onto the sidewalk and waved. The car screeched to a halt in front of him, and Connor was folding himself into the passenger in a matter of nanoseconds.

    “Been only a week since you last saw me.” Hank’s familiar voice, a thousand times more comforting to hear in person, scolded, “No need to rush like that.”

    Connor couldn’t seem to stop himself from smiling, “Likewise, Lieutenant. You were at least 10 miles over the speed limit. You should not be driving like that in the snow.”

    “I was running late! Jeffrey decided to hold a fucking last minute meeting, and I barely managed to duck out! He’s got a thing or two to learn from Jericho considering how easily they let you go.”

    “Looks like the captain is still his hard-working self,” Connor strapped himself in as Hank began to drive, “What else did I miss at the DPD?”

    Hank began to rattle off about case progress with no small amount of ranting about uncooperative witnesses and difficult coworkers. Connor sat back and listened with enrapturement. Now this was familiar territory, the investigation terminology, the process of interviews, the interrogation strategies. After an intensive month of engaging in political maneuvers and reputation building with Jericho, Connor felt as if he were finally in his element.

    He also took the opportunity to fully look at Hank the first time. His former partner hadn’t changed much, dressed in his signature brown coat complete with a gaudy shirt peeking through the collar (today it was a garish red and green one with tiny Christmas trees and red spherical ornaments), his shaggy shoulder-length gray perhaps a little more unkempt than usual and his beard needing a good trim. However, there were more lines in his rough face and weariness in his blue eyes.

    “Have you been sleeping?” Connor interrupted the other.

    Hank fell silent, heaving a deep sigh, “Fuck no. Detroit’s not doing that well after the android protests. At least half the population’s gone, and the worst people use that opportunity for crime, not to mention the increased cases of android violence.”

    “Do you have a new partner at least? You should—”

    “Of course not! We’re extremely short-staffed. And I wouldn’t… I can’t…” Hank suddenly faltered, before he released his next words in a deep whoosh of breath, “You’re not exactly that replaceable, Connor.”

    Connor’s processor stuttered as something welled up inside his chest, something warm and right and genuine that made him want to pull Hank into an embrace. He settled for placing his hand over Hank’s on the steering wheel, squeezing gently.

    “I could not hope for greater words from you, Lieutenant.”

    He could detect the other’s increased pulse and the rush of blood into his cheeks as Hank sputtered incomprehensibly for a few seconds.

    “Enough of that sappy bullshit,” He said gruffly, “I’m trying decide where we should go. None of the Christmas markets are running. Meadow Brook Hall might be an option, as well as Detroit Zoo and Campus Martius Park. We’re gonna have to find out.”

    Connor ran the names in his search engine, “Meadow Brook Hall is closed because most of its staff have evacuated. Detroit Zoo is still running, but no lights this year. I’m not sure about the park, since there is no available information on its status."

    “Fuck. The one time I actually want to go outside during Christmas is the time when everyone else decides to leave.I should’ve done research first. Can’t believe that a peaceful android protest causes that much panic in people. I'm gonna drive downtown and see what we find at this point."

    Hank turned onto a quiet residential street and began to head south. The car’s engine roared with the acceleration, its vibrations shaking the seats and the hula-skirt figurine on the dashboard. Connor allowed himself to sink into the familiar sound, the familiar movement, the familiar presence of Hank in the driver’s seat. All this felt right in a way none of his time at Jericho had been.

    He glanced at Hank again, at the outline of the side of his face and the occasional streetlight flashing to illuminate the other’s blue eyes as the rest of the city scrolled behind him. The light snow had started to come down heavier, creating a sheet of flurrying white particles against the windshield  Hank did slow down as snow began to coat the roads.

    “I'm sorry that this has been such a shitty outing so far. I'm the one who invited you, but I barely prepared for anything.” Hank sounded genuinely disappointed.

    “I would have been grateful if you invited me to your house to do nothing but watch the evening news,” Connor reassured, “Which I am open to if your projected plans fall through.”

    That seemed to touch something in Hank as he took a deep breath and tapped his fingers restlessly against the wheel. He did this for at least seven minutes and forty-three seconds, before muttering a “fuck it all” and accelerating the car again.

    Soon Connor realized that they were in fact heading towards Hank’s address of 115 Michigan Drive. A part of him looked forward to the prospect of meeting Sumo again, although he did not understand what Hank was planning to do. It sounded as if he were steeling himself to say something big, and that he was mulling over how he should present it as he spent the rest of the journey in silence.

    “Do you actually plan to watch TV with me for the rest of the evening?” Connor teased as they pulled into Hank’s driveway.

    “I’m gonna admit that taking you around Detroit was more of an excuse for my real reason for meeting with you,” Hank cut the engine, “C’mon, Connor.”

    Connor opened the passenger door, stepping out carefully onto the sheet of ice that had formed over much of the pavement. He gingerly made his way to the lit porch before reaching over to steady Hank as the other came stumbling across the slush.

    “Hang on a sec, I want to give you this first,” Hank dug around the inside of his coat and whipped out a bundle of something vaguely Christmas colored. Before Connor could analyze its shape, a long scarf was suddenly wrapped multiple times around his neck, followed by a knit cap that was jammed down his head all the way to his ears.

    “Lieutenant!” Connor exclaimed.

    “It’s fucking 28 degrees and you’re dressed in nothing but a suit jacket and jeans!” Hank pointed an accusing finger at him, “How can you expect to campaign for the rights of an entire species if you can’t keep yourself warm?!”

    “Androids are designed to operate normally up to 20 degrees. Detroit has never seen weather that goes below 23, so I doubt that—”

    “Principles, Connor! Same reasoning behind your whole licking evidence schtick!”

    Connor was becoming increasingly bewildered, “I don’t understand your point, Lieutenant. Placing evidence into my mouth and my ability to remain unaffected by the weather are both part of my android functions—”

    “God you haven’t changed a bit,” Hank exhaled, rubbing at his temples, “It’s a gift, Connor. I can’t stand you prancing around in that in this weather. Don’t overthink things with that big brain of yours.”

    Connor ran his fingers through the red and green scarf, tracing the knitted stitches and marveling at its softness against his synthetic skin. He hadn’t expected to receive something, and neither did he know how exactly it would be useful. All he knew was that he would wear them as often as he could, in commemoration of the first gift from Hank Anderson.

    “Thank you, Hank.” Connor said sincerely, “I would treasure this forever. I also picked out something for you, although I doubt you would be able to use it much considering how often you’ve been away from home.”

    Surprisingly, Hank received the vinyl in silence. He studied the cover with an unreadable expression, before tucking it under his arm and unlocking the front door. Sumo came running with skidding nails on tiles and eager panting, pawing at Hank’s knees and giving Connor’s outstretched hand a hearty lick.

    “Hank, if you don’t like it I could exchange for something else you’d prefer—” A sense of disappointment, as if he had failed a mission, came washing over Connor.

    “That’s not it. I listen to Metheny quite frequently and I don’t have this album.” Hank shed his coat, put down the vinyl and turned to face Connor fully, “I’ve been struggling with a decision these past few days, and now that we’re face to face, I’m certain I want you to know about it.”

    “What is it?” Connor asked with a growing feeling of apprehension.

    “Where are you staying right now?”

    That question came straight out of the blue, but Connor was sure that it would lead somewhere, “At Jericho headquarters at the edge of Ferndale. It used to be an abandoned Chrysler factory, but we’ve repurposed most of it.”

    “You happy there? Are you comfortable around those Jericho folks?”

    “That’s a difficult question,” Connor frowned, “I am glad to receive the opportunity to amend my past of deviant hunting. Markus and the others are all very accommodating. We are making huge strides in negotiations with the human government.”

    But was he happy? Content? Satisfied? Connor cannot say that he wasn’t, but he knew that he was often overwhelmed by the amount of thought and foresight that went into creating a better future for his people. He often felt that it was such a large cause, beyond a investigative prototype who became deviant and until recently had Hank as his only company. 

    “I do miss work at the DPD and being partners with you,” He admitted, “67% of my processes over the last month involve those two.”

    Hank smiled wryly,“Can’t let go of the past either, eh, Connor? But you’ve found something more important to you for the future.”

    “Hank, what are you getting at?”

    “Alright! I’ll stop beating around the fucking bush!” Hank said loudly, raising his hands in resignation, “I know you’re doing important work for the bettering of our society, and I feel selfish for even considering this. I shouldn’t try to pull you away, to bar your way to a better future just to suit the desires of a lonely old man. All I want you to know that from now on, my home is open to you permanently if you ever want to stay here, and you have my full support if you want to get reinstated at the DPD.”

    It took cycles for Connor to fully process the implications of Hank’s offer. Hank opening his home, a gesture so rarely seen even between humans. Him now having the option to stay with Hank, to see him and hear his voice every single day in person. Hank trusting Connor enough and wanting him to have a place of belonging. Him receiving the opportunity to watch over Hank’s wellbeing closely. Him with the possibility of returning to his preferred work. Hank wanting Connor at his side. Hank wanting Connor in his life.

    His chest tightened with something he could not name, but Hank definitely could as he rushed forward.

    “Fuck, I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m just bad with words, that’s all! Here, Sumo Sumo! C’mere and give Connor a good snuggle.”

    Connor sank to his knees and pressed his face into the St. Bernard’s fur, speechless at the sudden waves of intense reactions in him. He had never considered the possibility of staying with Hank at all, or that Hank would ever think of sharing his home. At that moment all the want he had been building up, now simultaneously fulfilled, threatened to shatter what remained of his composure

    “Sumo needs a bath soon, Hank.” Connor managed to choke out, his voice muffled by the dog’s fur.

    “In my house and already seeing where I’m messing up,” Hank knelt next to him, “I’m not gonna ask you to do chores and all that shit. You have the freedom to do whatever you want here, relax, cuddle Sumo all day, stare at the window. Getting you back to the DPD might be trickier though…. Fuck, what am I doing? You haven’t even told me what you think about this yet.”

    Connor gave Sumo a final squeeze before lifting his head to look directly at Hank. Even as he took in the other’s rare earnest expression, the comforting weight of Hank’s hand laid on his shoulder and the sheer fact that he had the chance to be a part of Hank’s life, he knew what his answer was almost immediately.

    “I would be honored,” Connor closed his eyes, “Your request was not selfish. I missed you a great deal, Hank.”

    “Should’ve asked you when we met at Chicken Feed after the CyberLife Tower incident, but I figured that you would be living with the Jericho androids from then on. Who knew your attachment to me would be so persistent?”

    There it was again, the word “attachment”. Connor now knew that it was what put him in a constant state of want and restlessness up until now. A part of his processes would always stay with Hank no matter where he went, and he looked forward to figuring out how he could express them properly.

    Connor finally gave in to the impulse to wrap his arms tightly around Hank’s middle, resting his head against Hank’s shoulder. At first Hank stiffened in surprise, though his frame soon softened as he patted Connor’s back gently.

    “Hey, this is your home now. Make yourself comfortable however you like."

    “Your intent to create a memorable first Christmas for me has succeeded,” Connor said softly, “I wanted this for awhile, above anything else I could have found at Jericho.”

    “How the fuck you chose to prioritize me above being with your people is beyond me. But I suppose… I prefer having you around again, above anything else.”

    Hank was silent after that, but he continued to hold Connor, with Sumo now intrigued enough to nose his way between the two of them and curl up against their bodies. Connor saved the moment into his hard drive for posterity, right beside the one when they first embraced at Chicken Feed. For once his processor did not work to analyze and calculate. There was nothing to be on guard against or to respond with caution.

    Because at this single moment, Connor knew that everything was in its right place, and there was nothing more he could ask to be different.


End file.
